Escape
by Elvendork Amell
Summary: A young Remy Hadley Thirteen runs away from her traumatic home life to meet a curious stranger...


_Written in the PoV of Thirteen when she was a child. I use American English because... Thirteen is American. British English just didn't read particularly well. My first attempt at a House fanfic... And a Silence of the Lambs one actually. One-shot. _

_AU: Set just before Silence of the Lambs, before Hannibal is sectioned/arrested. Thirteen is a young child who runs away from home. Her date of birth is unknown so let's assume she's about 9?_

He couldn't tell which direction I'd run in. I was crouched behind the lady who lived across the street's fence. I didn't dare move and expected him to see me at any moment, since he was searching metres away from where I was. As soon as he went back in to the house I waited a few minutes before cautiously making my way out of the garden and running down the street. I'd hoped the lady hadn't seen me, she might have told Dad I'd been there. I kept looking over my shoulder every few paces, he wasn't following me. The car was still parked outside of our house, he hadn't gone out looking for me just yet. _He would be soon though _I thought, _then he'll find you in no time_. I came to a standstill and gave this thought some consideration, that was true. He would be able to drive around the streets and find me pretty quickly. _Unless_, the doubtful voice in my head said suddenly with a glint of hope,_you find somewhere well away from the roads_. I felt an instant sense of satisfaction as I set my eyes on my goal, at the end of the street there was a right turning. When I would reach that, I would see a park to my left which would connect to a forest. Hiding from my family was just made significantly easier. My pace quickened to almost a run, I didn't allow myself to look back. Apart of me hoped that if I was running, he might not be able to make out who I was. I knew that was unlikely but the possibility of that and getting to the park as soon as possible spurred me on – even when my knees began to hurt, or I felt a stitch growing in my side. As soon as this began to happen I just remembered the shouting and screaming, I couldn't bear to hear it all over again.

I _hated _her. I hated her so much. Dad had tried to explain what was wrong with her: Huntington's Disease. It was a disease that affects her muscles, causes her mood-swings, causes her to yell and scream. Dad's trying to hide it all from me but I see much more than he realises. I can't stand it any more. I wish she was dead, I want her to die so much. I wish she'd just leave me and Dad alone. I said this to Dad once, I'd never seen him so angry. He came into my room one night to tell me he was taking Mom to the hospital. He asked me to come with him, I refused.

"I'm not going," I began defiantly as he stood in my doorway, leaning against the frame. "I don't want to."

"Remy, I know hospitals are a scary place but -"

"It's not that," I scowled in response. "I just don't want to go. I don't want to see her -"

"I know you're upset, but -"

"I'm not upset. I hate her, I hope she doesn't come back." The words shocked even me at first but I was still surprised when he stormed out of my room and down the stairs without a word. I thought I was just saying it because I was angry or to make Dad leave me alone. The more I thought about, the more I realised... I actually did hate her. So much.

My eyes lit up when I saw the park, it looked inviting and most importantly like the perfect place to hide. I began to run across a little too enthusiastically and tripped over the curb, I gasped as my knee hit the ground. I'd torn my jeans and I could see where my skin had grazed. A shooting pain went through my leg as I started to stand up but I forced myself to bear it. I couldn't go home now, I knew it would wear off soon. I slowly made my way to the park as the sky began to turn a greyish colour. I began to regret not wearing a jacket but... I couldn't exactly go back for one now. My pace became slower and much more tentative as I made my way through the park and towards the playground. As I began to get closer and saw laughing children running around, happy couples. Families, all happy. I swayed between envy and anger. Every smiling mother just filled me with hatred. I looked up at the sky, towards where God should be. The one I was starting to doubt the existence of. _Why didn't I have that? Why do you give that to them and not me? What did I do?_ I realised how stupid it was attempting to talk to him whilst I was doing it. No one was there and if "God" did exist, he clearly didn't care. Why else would this happen to me? _I'm not a bad person, am I? If not, then why is this happening to me? _I made my way towards the unoccupied swings, I was given a couple of sympathetic looks from some of the adults. Each one I resented. It was generally known that Mom wasn't very well – it's like Dad always said whenever anyone stared whilst he was trying to get Mom in the car.

"People are always interested in other people's lives. It's their own morbid curiosity, it's none of their business," he usually spat with the same bitter tone and glaring look in his eye. The more I heard it, the more I realised he was right. My life, our life, it wasn't anything to do with any of them. It certainly wasn't the business of anyone in this playground. I sat on the last swing and pushed myself back and forth. I hold the two chains and leant back slightly. I dragged my feet on the ground and started to spin myself round. I imagined I came home with Mom not there. I pictured Dad taking me into his car and driving far away from her. Everything would be okay because it would just be me and him, we'd get our own house without her. We'd never have to see her again.

I was brought back to life when a woman sat down on the swing next to me. I recognised her immediately: she was the one whose garden I hid in earlier. I stared at her, my eyes tracing across her long, curly blonde hair and pale skin. She smiled at me like I was a little kid who she felt sorry for. She always did that. That's why I didn't like her.

"I've seen you before, haven't I?" She asked, I gave a sharp intake of breath. She knew she had seen me before, she lived across the street. I also knew where this conversation was going. I was tempted to tell her to go away and leave me alone. I held these words in my throat and forced a smile. I knew I had to be polite as much as I didn't want to be.

"Yes, I live across the street from you," I replied quietly. I avoided eye contact and was desperate to just keep swinging. Why was she talking to me?

"Of course," she said nodding. _Then why did you ask? _I thought irritatedly. "You're John and Anne's daughter, right?"

"Yes," I said pointedly, attempting to stare her into leaving.

"I'm sure I heard something coming from your house last night," she said softly. I felt my eyes and body language harden. I knew where this was going.

"Perhaps."

"Some shouting, screaming? It sounded like a fight -"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I interrupted. Her eyes filled with shock at how rude I was being, I didn't care. _She _was the one questioning me about this when it had nothing to do with her. She seemed to change her mind and try a different approach. Her gaze softened again and regained that look of sympathy. _Why did she have to do that?_

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm perfectly all right thank you." She looked at me in disbelief.

"You know, if everything isn't okay at home -"

"I'm fine." I threw myself off the swing, I didn't even bother making up an excuse as to why I was leaving. I could feel her eyes boring into my back as I walked away. I wondered if she'd try and talk to me again or if she'd just leave me alone. I hoped for the latter. I didn't want to talk about my family to anyone, particularly not her.

I found myself wandering through the forest, I had strayed away from the path. This way, there were no people around me. I was surrounded by trees and silence, just completely lost in my own world. An occurrence which was probably the first to make me smile today. I imagined no one would find me here, I could just stay in the woods and the trees for ever and ever and I'd never have to see Mom again. Dad could come to if he wanted but not _her_. Not after this morning. I stopped suddenly whilst I replayed the events in my head. _This morning. The reason I ran away. _Everything I had felt at that point came rushing back and I hated myself for a moment for thinking of it again, I was ruining the forest by doing so. Destroying my happy place. I found myself sitting cross-legged on a fallen branch as tears started to form in my eyes.

I wasn't sure how much time had passed, I was too lost in my own head. Could've have been five minutes, possibly an hour. I wasn't brought back to life until I heard a branch snap behind me, my head turned before I even had a moment to think about it. There was no one there, I looked around nervously. I had definitely heard someone moving. I felt my shoulders stiffen and my throat run dry as the oh-too-familiar feeling of being watched reached me. I jumped as I saw a figure appear from the trees. A tall, ageing man. He was very distinguished looking, to the point where I couldn't look away. There was something about his eyes too were they, a very dark shade of... _Red? _Not not red, it couldn't be. What human being's eyes are _red? _Unless he wasn't human? I shook my head, that thought really was ridiculous.

"Well, well, what have we here?" The man said in a distinctive, curious tone. I felt my spine straighten as I tried to look directly at him. Everything about him terrified me but I was determined to be brave. "What is your name, little girl?"

"R-Remy," I stammered.

"Remy," he repeated. "Remy what, may I ask?"

"R-Remy Hadley," I said, with more confidence this time. Not much more, but enough to make me feel a little braver.

"Remy Hadley," he enunciated every syllable. A look in his eye suggested he had heard the name before. "I'm Dr. Lector, or Hannibal to some. Tell me Remy, how do you find yourself here?" I tried to keep eye contact with him, as intimidating as he was he hadn't actually done anything to me yet. Not that I was naïve and foolish enough to actually relax myself around him, for now however I had no reason to believe anything bad was about to happen. Despite my attempts however, words weren't coming out. My throat was dry and I couldn't answer his question, I merely stammered like an idiot. "Ah, let me guess. Running away?"

I nodded.

"From what I wonder? Tell me Remy, you're relationship with your parents how is it?"

"F-f-fine," I stammered back. What was it about his voice? It was terrifying.

"You're father particularly, how is it?" There was an almost mocking glint in his eyes. "Does he ever beat you? Steal some quiet moments together in the car before soccer practice maybe -"

"No!" I responded defiantly, louder and stronger than I had intended.

"Hm, not the father then. There was something in your tone though, something to do with your parents." He hesitated for a moment and then his red eyes filled with inspiration. "Aha! Your mother?"

"Stop, you don't -"

"Yes, your mother. You two don't get along do you?" He looked at me thoughtfully. I started to panic, I wanted to run away but I found myself frozen to the spot. How could he have figured this out? Perhaps he lived on my street and I had just never seen him before. I shook my head. I'd have remembered him. "Why? Does _she _beat – no. That's not it, looking at you you don't have the look of an abused child. You're too strong too... Defiant. She's sick isn't she? Something is killing her and you have to watch her waste away -"

"STOP, STOP, STOP!" I started to scream, holding my hands over my ears.

"Aha!" He said triumphantly again. "Now we are getting somewhere. What is wrong with her I wonder? Something you can see visually, possibly psychological. Something you wish to escape from." He looked at me as if I was a puzzle he couldn't quite work out that he desperately wanted the answer. I could feel the skin around my eyes becoming raw with my tears, they were probably scarlet. So much for not showing my weakness. "Judging by your age she must be quite young, not Alziemer's then. Or Parkinson's. Huntington's?" At least I assumed he said the word, I stood up and ran away as began the first syllable . Faster than I did when I was trying to escape my family, the desperation to get away from the man and away from the woods. _Who was he? How did he know all of this? _The thought of his red, twisted eyes stuck in my mind. The tears wouldn't stop as I ran out of the woods, desperate to be in Dad's arms.


End file.
